Intervention
by editor frog
Summary: Morgan and Garcia stage an intervention...with hilarious results!


**After last night's ep, this sprang to mind. Hope you enjoy! [Usual disclaimers.]

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"Hey, kid," Morgan called out the moment he laid eyes on Reid that morning. "Come here."

"And good morning to you too," Reid replied, taking a sip of his coffee and wincing. "Geez, think it's hot enough? Nearly burned my tongue off…"

Before Reid knew what was happening, his coffee cup magically disappeared from his grip and he was being dragged into a large spare room just off the bullpen that no one used and people rarely entered in the first place. "What the...?"

"Now, baby girl!" Morgan cried, releasing his grip on Reid's shirt. Garcia immediately locked the door behind her and stood in front of it as though on guard duty.

"M-Morgan? Garcia?" Reid stared at his friends, wide eyes and now very nervous. "What's…what's going on?"

"An intervention," Garcia said simply, pulling something large and heavy out of the corner of the room. Looking over at her accomplice, she said, "I'm assuming you brought the tools?"

"Tools?" Reid squeaked. He took a step toward the locked door, but Garcia was too quick for him.

"Uh-unh, gorgeous," she clucked. "This is for your own good."

Now really nervous, Reid's eyes darted between Morgan's busy hands at a nearby table and Garcia's determined stare as she leaned against a large, clear object. "Come on, guys," he said, fighting the urge to stammer and twitch his lips as his overactive mind started to get the better of him. "Wh-what's going on? Seriously."

"It's for your own good," Morgan said as Garcia readied the item in her grip.

----

The sound of plastic scrunching and tiny _pops_ made everyone in the bullpen sit up and take notice. A few were kind enough to hold in their chuckles, but other reactions had run the gambit from spitting out swallows of beverages in shock to just bursting into gales of laughter.

"Very funny, guys," Reid said, although no one actually noticed it. His voice was thick and muffled and it was difficult to understand him.

"Hey, quit it," Morgan said, giving his patented _cut-it-out-or-else_ glare to everyone he passed. "It had to be done."

The gales of laughter continued, and Reid tried desperately to cover his ears—which was hard to do, covered as they were.

"Ooh, great," JJ said, flying across the balcony landing with a stack of files in her hand. "We're gathering in five minutes…"

"Terrific."

The sound of the muffled voice was enough to make JJ stop and look. "What in the…?" she exclaimed, her face a cross between _dear-God-what-happened-now _and _how-am-I-going-to-explain-this?_

"It's for his own good, JJ," Garcia said simply as she carefully led Reid into the round table room.

"Seriously…"

"It was that or the alternative," Morgan said.

"Which was?"

"You don't want to know." With that, he too took his seat.

"JJ, can you bring us up to…" Hotch said as he entered, but for once the unit chief was actually looking around the room as he came to the meeting. He saw his technical analyst, his liaison and two of his profilers sitting in their places, waiting patiently for the latecomers. The sound of several simultaneous _pops_ coming from Reid's direction made Hotch especially take notice. "Do I want to know?" he asked.

"It's for his own good," Morgan and Garcia said in unison, while Reid mumbled something no one quite heard.

"Dare I ask?"

"Not seeing him get hurt, poisoned, attacked or anything else, Hotch," Morgan said firmly. "I can't speak for everyone else, but you have no idea what it's like for me when I see him getting the short end of it time and time again."

Hotch knew. He knew all too well. "Okay," he said, willing to be reasonable. "But I have three concerns about this."

"Shoot."

"First question: what happens when he goes home?"

"I put security measures in his apartment building, his car and even his person," Garcia answered. Both Hotch and JJ gave each other looks that said _do-we-really-want-to-know?_

"Second: what happens when…"

"He gets a new one every morning," Morgan said. "We found an empty room that works well for storage. Plus someone will have to check his food and follow him to the men's room."

"And third: how the hell is he going out in the field like that?"

"I got spares," Garcia said, pulling out a receipt. "And I can get more."

Before Hotch could comment, Rossi and Emily walked in. Emily took one look at the group and started laughing so hard she started choking.

"This is not funny, Emily," Garcia said. "It's for his own good."

"Wrapping the poor man in bubble wrap and surgical masks is 'for his own good'?!"

"Yes," Morgan and Garcia replied at once.

"God help him," Rossi said, shaking his head as he took his seat.


End file.
